


The Iron King

by OctobersLily510



Series: The Marvel Court [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Mentioned violence, Omega Peter Parker, Omega Steve Rogers, Peter is 17 and engaged to Tony, Starker-centric, Stucky is implied, Tony raised Peter from a baby, mentioned slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctobersLily510/pseuds/OctobersLily510
Summary: The Iron King was many things, but tactful wasn’t one of them.The slave looked at the King with a closed expression, saying nothing and giving even less away. He was handsome in a traditional way: with blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, built in a way that suggested he was used to winning the fight. The King could see why his General - who had never really seemed bothered by his bachelor status – could not take his eyes from him.Something else to be packed away for later, he decided.The King nodded, trying to ignore the piercing blue stare. “But I know someone who will. Winter.”The General snapped to attention with a small straightening of his spine, finally taking his attention away from the Omega before them.“Escort us to the Omega Court: we’re going to see Peter.”





	The Iron King

**Author's Note:**

> I love an historical AU and I love A/B/O Dynamics...so this happened! Un beta-ed so all mistakes are mine. I own nothing but the universe in my head. Hope you like it!
> 
> Please note: I know not everyone likes Starker and I understand that, but this is a Starker story so if you are here for Stucky I'd leave now: you will be disappointed.

The Iron King was not a patient man. 

As the Heads of the Council argued and bickered amongst themselves, he caught the eye of his trusted General Winter, and had to smother a tell-tale grin at his downright murderous glare.  


Good, if he had to suffer through this, so should he.

The Alpha king tried in vain to pay attention to what the Council was saying, but he had missed too much from his inattention, and now apparently they were discussing some sort of trade deal with the Beta King of the neighbouring nation – strange, he was convinced they’d been discussing in-house council matters for the annual market not five minutes ago. 

Oh well, it wasn’t like he was listening regardless. 

“OK, so…you all seem to have everything under control…”

“Your Majesty.” 

Aw, fuck. 

He knew that Tone – Lady Pepper, his Supreme Head of Council and most trusted advisor had a range of very specific tones that she used for his varying ranges of inattention or apathy of state matters (he couldn’t help it, did anyone find the Baron’s second son’s third cousin’s husband’s theory of tax paperwork interesting?) and he knew that he had reached the Penultimate Tone: she must have been aware that he had stopped paying attention around the third point on her agenda, but had not been told that he had tried to get out of this meeting by making up an emergency of building inspections in the out-laying villages of the Third Quadrant.

Honestly, Rhodey was meant to be his Knight, not Pepper’s enforcer.

Traitor. 

As it was now, the King could see the smirks he and Winter were sending each other over his shoulders where they each stood flanking him, and he pushed down the urge to roll his eyes. He wondered who had won the bet this time. 

“Forgive me, Lady Pepper: as you were all saying?”

Next time, he decided, he was just going to sneak out the dungeon’s back door. 

***

After finally being released – ahem, finished – from Council business, Tony made his way gratefully to the Great Hall. Rhodey had elected to go on ahead to ensure everything was prepared, while Winter remained faithfully at the King’s side, silent but alert. 

Very dramatic looking too. 

Tony chuckled at himself for the thought, and Winter – Call me Bucky, sire – rolled his eyes. “Almost finished with your afternoon agenda, Your Highness, just the slave market overview next.” Anyone who did not know the Alpha general would have missed the tightening of his jaw and eyes, but Tony saw it. He shared it. 

Immediately, the King scowled, and was silent. 

He had outlawed slavery in his kingdom several years ago – it had caused great upset within his then-Council members, and one of the oldest serving members, Ser Obadiah, had left court over it after a huge row which ended with the Knight claiming that he would never be the King his father was. 

Tony didn’t care. 

No one could own another human being, no one had any right to it, and no one was born superior to any other – if nothing else, Tony wanted to be remembered as the King who had brought freedom to his kingdom, and safety. The slave trade was a trade of death and suffering, and he would no longer be a merchant of it. 

Of course, it is not easy to change lifetimes of habit and commerce: slave rights were slowly introduced as time passed, replacing his council members just as slowly to ensure the new reforms were upheld. Slaves were required to be named in the household census, have access to health care, adequate food and sleeping facilities, education and labour and age restrictions. Slave traders had to licensed and vetted every year. Wages were to be paid or held for the slave to be given on completion of contractual obligations agreed between slave and master, and any household found in violation of such rules had all slaves immediately removed from their care. 

And the sexual slavery and forced mating of Omega’s was expressly forbidden and punished with the death penalty.

A slave market was still held every week, overseen personally by the Alpha King and his court to ensure terms of service were met and the laws upheld. Tony had been campaigning for years to get the market forbidden also, but even his liberal-minded council avoided going this far: if there was no legal market, the argued, then the traders would turn to illegal ones. 

He was working on it. 

He entered the Great Hall to a buzz of activity – slavers leading their men and women to their designated areas of the room, servants scuttling to and fro to help get everything in order and providing refreshments. The King spotted Dr. Banner, the Royal Physician, already in attendance to check on the health and well-being of the slaves to be sold today. Rhodey and Vision, the court’s mage and Council member, were already making their rounds in order to ensure the slaves were of the required age, mind and suppressant status. The hall was filled with the natural light from the floor to ceiling windows either side of the dais where his throne sat, bedecked in red and gold to match the rest of the room. The two chairs at either side lay empty, and sparkled with the fresh polish being applied by the servants. 

“His Royal Alpha Highness, King Anthony Stark of Americana, the Iron King of York!”

The King barely nodded to the acknowledgment of the Court, walking with purpose to his throne. He sat as Bucky took his usual position on his right-hand side, and a serving woman ran up with wine and fruit for them both as refreshment. “Thank you, Friday.” Tony murmured as he sipped the wine. “Anything to report?” 

“A new slaver lost his license for using chains, my lord, the slaves he was to auction will be presented last should other slavers wish to take responsibility of their keeping. The others are all regulars, and in keeping with the laws.”

Tony nodded, making a note to ensure the man received a harsh fine and possibly a whipping as punishment. Any man who was willing to chain others for profit would only learn by extreme measures. The King had no trouble ensuring these were carried out. 

He looked to Rhodey for confirmation that all was in order, before giving the signal for his guards to allow the people in. They came in waves, usually in groups of two and three’s: mostly farmers and business owners looking for cheap extra hands, or a few women looking for girls to help keep the household. A few were nobles and members of the court, looking for an extra servant or two. Tony grimaced and shared a look with Bruce. He made a point to keep his household free of slaves to lead by example – clearly, it was not taking as he had hoped. He idly wondered if he should broach the idea of outlawing slave ownership among the nobles in the next Council meeting – a good 60% of them would support him, he knew: plus, it had been a while since he had done anything drastic. He was getting bored. 

Somewhere in the castle, the Lady Pepper just got the beginning of tension headache without knowing why. 

The King witnessed the proceedings with apathy: he was pleased to note the slaves looked healthy – some even happy with their terms of ‘employment’ (he still used that term loosely) – and mentally started drafting the plans for his next armour design for his army: apprenticed to a blacksmith while still a young princeling, Tony had taken to it like a duck to water, and had taken a keen interest in the forging and creation of armour, weapons, tools and appliances ever since. 

Then the last batch of slaves – those who had been brought in chains – were brought forward. 

There wasn’t many of them: five to be exact. Three young girls, too young to have fully presented as the Betas’ he could smell they were and just passing the age restriction. One Alpha man, middle-aged by the look of him with an old injury to his leg: and a younger man, tall and blonde with a body suggesting a gladiatorial background. 

He was also an unmedicated Omega.

The King could feel Bucky stiffen at his side as the faintest trace of the scent reached them: oak leaves and lavender. A hiss escaped the General as the King bit back a growl of his own. An unmedicated Omega spoke loudly of the slave trader’s intentions with his products. 

Tony mentally upped the fine and possible whipping to a spell in the dungeon and a seizure of all property and goods. 

“Bruce, Rhodey, cease this at once. These slaves will be under the Kingdom’s protection.” He commanded, ignoring the glares and grumbles of the other slave traders and buyers. He made a mental note of Vision’s wince, and decided that finding out how this had been missed before now was a problem for another time. 

“Friday, take the girls to Maria, she will find a place for them. Rhodey, find a place for the Alpha.” He waited while his two friends and servants did as they were bid, before giving the order to clear the hall – the slave market was finished for today. 

That left him, Bucky and the Omega slave in silence. 

“OK, so; not too sure what to do about you.”

If Bucky wasn’t still angry about the violation of the slave market rules and casting loaded and unreadable looks at the slave, he would have forgotten all courtly dignity and face-palmed. 

It would not have been the first time.

The Iron King was many things, but tactful wasn’t one of them. 

The slave looked at the King with a closed expression, saying nothing and giving even less away. He was handsome in a traditional way: with blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, built in a way that suggested he was used to winning the fight. The King could see why his General - who had never really seemed bothered by his bachelor status – could not take his eyes from him. 

Something else to be packed away for later, he decided. 

The King nodded, trying to ignore the piercing blue stare. “But I know someone who will. Winter.”

The General snapped to attention with a small straightening of his spine, finally taking his attention away from the Omega before them.

“Escort us to the Omega Court: we’re going to see Peter.”

***

Over the last 17 years, many throughout the nation had proclaimed Tony Stark, the Iron King, the luckiest Alpha in the kingdom.

He was inclined to agree. Wholeheartedly.

It had long been an accepted biological fact that in the royal families, Alphas and Omegas born had a mate: a perfect match for their hearts, souls and minds. Finding this particular individual meant that the Kings and Queen’s lived longer, were happier, and brought happiness and prosperity to the kingdom.

The problem? The ‘finding’ part.

There is no clue nor system to find these individuals: many mages and wizards over the years had claimed to be able to see the location of an intended mate, but none had a high success rate, but all had high fees. The kingdom was vast and contained millions of people in small villages, towns and hamlets: the act of finding a royal’s intended was, suffice to say, nothing short of miraculous. Many families had simply given up over the years and betrothed their princes and princesses to good households, with a stipulation that should the intended mate appear, the marriage would be dissolved but the promises of protection/treaties/dowry’s etc. would be binding.

Tony had lived twenty-seven years without finding his. He had searched in his youth for a time, hoping that travelling far and wide into the kingdom would yield a fruitful conclusion. He had been young and eager and hopeful: until an accident killed his mother and father and left him a king before he was ready. He’d spent the next ten years waging war on neighbouring kingdoms, entertaining his extensive harem and ignoring the ache in his soul that something was missing.

Until he and his army rode into Queensvillage.

A small area just inside the southern border, the Iron King - as he had then become known - had heard tell of a group of bandits whom had been terrorising the smaller hamlets and villages. When it had reached him that they were only a village away from his camp, he had selected his best soldiers and generals and ridden hard to Queensvillage in order to apprehend them.

All he found was destruction.

The bandits had razed the village to the ground. Smoke and dying flames rose into the sky, broken glass glittering in the afternoon sun like tears. Ash and the stench of burning flesh and fresh blood made the King’s soldiers gag.

“Spread out, locate any survivors.” He gruffly demanded, urging his horse forward into the grey ruins: following some unknown instinct.

The men searched, finding bodies and blood and broken lives, but they found no survivors.

Until the last house.

Closest to the trees, the small, hastily put together shack had clearly been owned by those poorer in the village, but it had been spared the worst of the flames due to this very distance, and was still partially standing. The King did not hesitate, the instinct growing strong within his belly, as he leaped down and ducked inside, ignoring the warnings from his men.

He walked out cradling a whimpering, dusty and new-born baby boy.

The men were cheered by the sight of an infant surviving the most horrible of chaos: but Tony?

Tony cradled the child close to his heart, feeling the lap of cool, soothing water wash over the bone-deep ache in his soul, the loneliness and pain at the edges of his mind, the weariness of his body. The fresh grass and faint cedar scent of the new-born’s skin soaked into his own and filled his nose as he ducked and pressed his face gently into the soft brown curls, admiring the chocolate brown eyes that gazed into his with a comprehension no baby should have had.

The King had found his mate: almost as soon as they had entered the world.

The Iron King had ordered his army back to the castle that very night: under no terms was his infant mate to be caught in a war zone. And to leave him alone in the care of servants? Unthinkable.

The news had spread fast and wide: many rejoicing for the King’s happy news, and many others muttering about the 27 years the King had above his intended. “The boy will never have a chance.” Some whispered. “He will never have a choice.” The worst of them predicted.

They were wrong. All of them.

Tony summoned Bruce as soon as he returned, ordering the health of the baby checked and documented. As the doctor checked the child over, Tony called for Jarvis, his oldest and most faithful servant, to prepare his best guest chambers into a nursery, for the healthiest wet nurse from the village to be brought to the palace, and hand-picked servants to form up the infant’s care team/household.

“He will want for nothing, Bruce.” The King promised as he tenderly cradled the sleeping baby. “I will make sure he has everything he needs, give him everything he wants: but as a friend, an older brother, a father even, until he chooses otherwise.”

And so it was.

The King made peace with his neighbours and stopped producing new weapons to focus on war-making. He soon started focusing on policies to improve housing, the sewage system, education and health. His council and court were soon very used to seeing him attending meetings and presentations with a giggling toddler on his lap, playing with the rings adorning his fingers.

The Omega Prince, as they called him, was named Peter by his wet nurse. He was adored by her and his servants for his good nature and happy disposition. He chocolate-brown eyes were always lit up in curiosity, and as soon as he started walking he was everywhere: balancing on his chubby little legs in search of new adventures and toys.

Or his Alpha.

The day Peter lisped out his first word: “Alpa!” With a delighted cheer and raising his arms for Tony to pick him up, it was clear that the King’s assessment was true. He never cried in Tony’s arms, nor whimpered or fussed. He always looked for him in every room he was taken into, his bright eyes darting around. When he refused to sleep or feed, Tony merely had to take the child in his arms, and suddenly he was a little darling again: completely in agreement with his nurses routine.

He was the light of Tony’s life.

It was because of Peter than his campaign against slavery started: when the bandits responsible for the destruction of Queensvillage were ruthlessly hunted down and captured by the Winter Soldier, as he was then known, it became clear that they were capturing and selling people into slavery for profit. When the men of Queensvillage had fought back, there had been the massacre.

“If we’d known about the Omega baby, we’d have sold him.” The leader spat, chained and beaten before the court. “Pretty baby boy like that would have fetched a high price from a breeding house.”

He suffered for that remark. Painfully.

“I could have lost him.” Tony murmured later to Bucky and Rhodey as he played with Peter in his private chambers: entertaining him with a collection of wooden toys Jarvis’s son Vision had made him. The boy loved the carved horses and soldiers, although he was currently in a habit of trying to eat everything, and so had to be watched to ensure he didn’t put them in his mouth.

“But you didn’t, he’s here: safe and happy.” Rhodey soothed, uselessly he knew; having known the King for his entire life.

“And how close did it come to not be so? I cannot even stand the sight of the slave markets: when I look at them now all I see is Peter in chains!”

The little boy reacted to his mate’s distress: the toy horse dropped to the ground, the little jaw began to wobble, and the chocolate eyes filled with tears. “Alpa? Alpa sad?”

“Oh no, hush baby, hush now. Everything’s OK.” Tony soothed, picking the three-year-old up and beginning to rock him slowly. “Alpha didn’t mean to scare you, little one. I’m sorry.”

The little boy cuddled into his chest. “Love Alpa, Alpa not be sad.” The King merely held him tighter, gently whispering to him that Alpha could never be sad: not with the most wonderful and bravest boy in the kingdom in his arms. “Everything’s OK, Peter, everything will always be OK.” He vowed into the boy’s curls, a look of steely determination in his eyes that that Rhodey mentally putting together the apology gift basket for Lady Pepper, and Bucky considering the advantages of just killing the would-be opposed council members in order to save himself the future headache.

He had checked himself.

Barely.

Now at almost eighteen years of age, Peter stood every inch the Royal Omega Prince and future King Consort he was in training to be: his eyes were gentle and still too-wise for his age. His hair was longer and thicker but still held a youthful curl. He had grown tall and strong from training daily with the finest weapons-masters in the nation since he could walk. He had a silver-tongue with irate nobles and commoners alike: able to talk them down from whatever grievance that they brought before him. He adored the other orphaned children whose education he provided for in the castle, and his sense of justice and equality surpassed even the Kings.’ 

And he was as devoted to his Alpha as he had been since he was but a teething child.

Now, his devotion could be seen in the way his face lit up as Tony entered the Omega’s Courtroom, where he was hearing petitions, grievances and problems the Omegas’ of the kingdom were facing. He sat up straighter from his seat on the low dais and waved his hand to pause the proceedings.

“Stop for a moment.” His voice was high and clear, and infused with a warmth that made even the grumpiest of complainants smile against their will. “Your Highness, to what do we owe such an interruption?” His eyes danced with mirth, and Tony’s mouth quirked up in answer. “Apologies, my Prince, I merely had an urgent petition to bring to your attention.”

“I see.” Peter leaned back, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. “I will hear it, of course: but I will ask you to wait until Master Baker here has finished his. It is only fair: he has waited all day.” He raised his eyebrows, eyes still dancing.

The court members exchanged looks; some were amused, they had seen this game played between the two before. Those who had not were shocked into silence, and Master Terrence Baker, who had indeed waited all day for his petition to be heard, looked downright fearful. Bucky was too busy looking at the slave in concern to pay much attention: which was a shame, as this one was of his favourite parts of court life. The slave himself, standing just behind Tony with Bucky, looked almost horrified at such a display: to ask a King to wait his turn was unthinkable.

And the Iron King? The most powerful and richest of rulers in the nation?

He merely bowed.

“Of course, my dear Prince. I would expect nothing less.” He was barely holding himself back from shaking with suppressed laughter as he rose, his face betraying the fondness for the Omega standing before him: for he was the only one who could command him: this young Omega who had never seen a real battle.  
Peter bowed his head in acknowledgement: the sunlight from the windows catching on the silver circlet he wore casting flecks of light onto the King’s gold robes and bearded jaw.

“Master Baker, if you please? Let us not keep the King waiting too long.”

This was Master Baker’s fourth time coming to the Omega’s court with a grievance relating to his guild’s handling of the repairs to his shop after a small fire had broken out at one of the nearby homes. However, the presence of the King at his back prompted him to cut down his usual list of issues that had always before taken a good forty-five minutes to an acceptable fifteen. With a small touch of impatience, Peter reiterated that the court was indeed following up on his requests, and would he be agreeable (once again) to await a summons for an official answer to his petition once the investigation (the third of its kind, now) had finished?

Master Baker was humbled at the Prince’s attention, and would of course remain his faithful servant and await his summons, and would the Prince be requiring any help in the kitchens for the upcoming wedding celebrations?

“Clear the court, His Majesty can make his petition at his leisure.” Peter ordered as the baker finally took his leave, the smile now only slightly strained. A nearby servant gently handed him a goblet of water as the court bowed and left, while Peter’s faithful wet nurse; now caretaker and adopted family, May, gently fussed with his hair. “You know I think you should limit these.” She was scolding as Tony slowly approached. “They take too much out of you.”  
Peter smiled gently at May and shook his head to gently dislodge her hand. “I know you do, but I can’t and won’t stop: it’s important to me to help the people in any and every way I can.”

May hmm-phed and said nothing else, though the tightness of her jaw had Peter gently pressing a fond kiss to her hand, the apology he could never say in his eyes.

“Now, why does she get a kiss and I only get a withering look when I say the same thing?” Tony snarked, grinning as he approached the foot of the dais with the two men behind him. The Prince’s answering grin lit up Tony’s chest as the younger boy rose to greet him. “Because she’s prettier.” He quipped, taking the sting out of his words by going willingly into his Alpha’s arms, tilting his head for the nuzzled kiss placed on the crook of his neck. He thrilled happily as the King wound his arms around the boy, beginning to press small kisses up his neck and jawline. “Brat.” The King mumbled fondly, finishing his trail by pressing a quick kiss to the Prince’s waiting lips. “Hey, baby.”

Peter smiled. “Alpha.” He returned fondly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more: I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for the midday meal - the Council session ran later than I wanted.”

“You mean it was held?” Peter quipped, as the Alpha laughed as he nipped at the boy’s jaw again. “Precisely.”

The boy giggled and eventually extracted himself from the embrace, although he kept their hands joined. “What petition brings you here, then?”  
“Two, actually: the first being if you will join me in my chambers for dinner? I would like us to have a private meal to make up for missing you today: I feel as if I have hardly seen you all week.”

Peter laughed, blushing even as he pressed a kiss to the knuckles of the King’s left hand. “Tony, it’s Tuesday.”

“So?” Tony pouted, and even May - who had never been the biggest fan of the King for her ward’s sake - smiled at the sight of it.

Peter just shook his head and laughed again. “Yes, my love, I shall join you for dinner. And the second?”

At this reminder, Tony sobered and let him down, taking a step back as he did so and motioning for Bucky and the slave to take a step forward. “I wanted you to meet someone.”

Peter’s demeanour changed when he caught the sight and smell of the blonde man Tony and Bucky had brought with them. For all his youth and sheltered upbringing, he was not stupid nor ignorant of the world: how could he be, when the rumours and gossip of the Court had been part of his life since before he could walk? He stepped forward towards him, before motioning Bucky away gently. The General hesitated, but eventually did as he had been bid.

Peter smiled at the man gently, eyes cautious. “Hello.” He murmured. “I hope you will forgive my mate: he often forgets to ask people permission to act when he gets an idea into his head. I’m Peter.”

He reached out his hand for the larger man to shake, keeping his expression open and body relaxed. After an excruciating silence for several moments, during which both the King and the General resisted the temptation to speak or fidget, the blonde stranger reached out his hand to shake the younger’s. “Steve.”

His voice was raspy with disuse, quiet but distrustful. Peter continued smiling even as he could feel Steve eye him, as if bracing himself for a blow. “It’s lovely to meet you, Steve. What brings you to our kingdom?”

Steve shift his weight carefully, once again glancing around. His eyes landed on Bucky, and the General nodded in encouragement. “I was brought here to fight: I did not wish too, and so I was told I had to fight to defend myself, or suffer an Alpha’s wrath.” He said at last, casting a look down at the red welts left behind by the chains. Peter nodded gently, feeling the sliver of unease and anger from his bond with the King curl in the back of his mind. He steadfastly ignored it, smiling sadly again at Steve.

“We do not condone such things here, Steve, if you would like, I can arrange to help you return home?”

The man flinched, and Peter felt dread not entirely his own creep in. “I have none, not anymore.”

Peter did not have to look at Bucky to know he would be affected by such words.

The Prince swallowed. “I was the same, once.” Steve started, looking at him properly now. Peter did not smile this time, merely allowed the man to search for whatever he was looking for. “I was brought here, and this became my home: should you wish to stay, it can become yours too.”

The blonde’s eyes tightened, but Peter merely raised his hand in a placating gesture. “You do not have to fight if you don’t want to: and you will certainly never have to mate if that is your wish. Smell me: I call myself mated, but your nose will tell you the truth.”

Steve took a deep breath, his eyes finally lightening in curiosity. “You carry the scenting of an Alpha, but no mark nor permanent bond.”

“Indeed.” Tony cut in here, stepping forward and gently running the back of his hand down Peter’s cheek in a soft gesture. “Peter is the King Consort to be and my intended: but we are waiting until he is 18 to complete our mating and his coronation.”

“He is waiting.” Peter pointedly interrupted. “I long ago decided where my heart lay: he still insists that I may change my mind.” He rolled his eyes at the paraphrasing of his and Tony’s longest-held discussion point. Tony looked affronted, but pleased when he saw the distrust in the ex-slave’s expression ease.

Slightly.

It was progress.

“Forgive me for wishing to keep you safe, baby.” He sniped, nuzzling at Peter’s ear briefly. “I merely want to make sure you are certain you wish to spend your life with a grumpy old man almost 30 years your senior.”

The King wore a self-deprecating smile, and Peter let out a rare growl. “We will discuss this nonsense later.” He promised, noting the expression on Steve’s face. “For now, you and Winter are dismissed, my King.”

The King’s lips quirked. “I will see you for dinner?” He checked again, taking the Prince’s hand in his own and raising it to his lips. Peter’s expression softened. “Of course, my love, I look forward to it.”  
With one last bow and kiss to May’s hand (who despite herself looked charmed: progress!) the King took his leave, gesturing impatiently for Bucky when he turned back to once again look at Steve.  


“Well.” He grinned as the door was gently closed behind the two Alphas. “Someone was quite taken with our new guest.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but said nothing. 

“Until dinner, my dear General, you will have to accompany me as we oversee training of the new army recruits – are you sure you don’t want to take the time to discuss courting advice? After all, I have a high success rate in such an area.” The King laughed as they started heading to the training grounds. 

Bucky grumbled and still said nothing.

“Or perhaps wedding plans? My wedding planning is all but done…”

Bucky wondered if he would be able to bribe one of the new recruits to knock out the King during training.

“He is not as handsome as myself, of course, but I can see why you were taken with him…strong, silent type – your household won’t even know the two of you are in attendance!”

Forget that, Bucky decided as they reached the courtyard: he’d just get the recruits to knock him out.

“…wonder if he is open to an Alpha’s courting: you could ask Peter to drop some hints…”

Bucky had to remind himself – yet again – that it was treason to kill the King.

“And of course, if you need any advice for the wedding night…”

“Oh, for the Gods sake, Tony, shut up!”

***

“I can arrange for Friday to make up a chamber for you, if you wish it?” The Omega Prince – Peter, he had to keep reminding himself - asked Steve as he led him to his inner chamber, a grand but simple room that on first glance Steve could tell that it was a place for the Prince to sleep and nothing more; he must have other chambers closer to the King’s own, and he watched as the woman – May? – fussed around him, helping his shed his heavy court robes and fixing his circlet. 

The slave – ex-slave now, he supposed, and wasn’t that was strange thought? – looked at the boy in surprise at his question. He did not know the correct answer: would the Prince wish him to take a chamber? Was that what was expected?

Seeing the dilemma on his face, the Prince – Peter – nodded in understanding. “You do not have to stay if you don’t want to Steve, but it will be dark soon and the roads are dangerous at night.” His face was worried, and Steve wanted to reassure him that he did not need to worry about any danger. 

Steve frowned at this…where had that come from?

“Forgive me, I am getting ahead of myself. Will you take a seat?” Peter invited him as he sat at the sturdy oak table in the centre of the room, scattered with loose sheaves of paper, most covered with scrawled letters and calculations. The Prince chucked and moved them out the way into a messy pile as Steve gingerly sat down trying to avoid them. “I enjoy designing and creating new armour and weapons for our army: but also, tools for the blacksmiths and men of the villages and towns. It is a passion shared by both the King and I - he is helping me to do it better, as apparently no blacksmith in the kingdom was sufficiently safe or skilled enough to train me.” He rolled his eyes at the last statement. 

“And he is also helping to distract you from your lessons, my Prince.” May interjected, bringing a pile of books and papers to where the Prince was sitting. The Prince pouted good-naturedly as she did so, but then dutifully opened one of the books.

He motioned the servant they had called Friday forward, who had followed them in with water and simple refreshments: bread and cheese, cold meat and colourful fruit. Steve was quietly astonished when the Prince pushed it towards him before taking any for himself as she left. “Please, you must be hungry.” 

He waited, wondering if this was some sort of trick. But his survival instincts won out, and he slowly sampled some of the bread and meat. It was soft and nourishing, the meat seasoned well, and he found himself enjoying it after weeks of leftovers scavenged over the long journey into this strange kingdom.

As the Prince himself nibbled at a piece of bread, Steve allowed himself to indulge his curiosity. The boy - young man? - was dressed plainly for a Prince, even more so the eventual intended mate of the infamous Iron King. Simple red robes with a white undershirt stitched with gold, and a silver circlet on his head, but with no jewels or any special decoration except the carvings of what he assumed was the Royal crest. He wore a ring on his right hand to show his promised state (it would move to his left when he married, as was the custom), and although the silver metal was of a clear fine quality, there was no evident embellishment of the kind he would have expected a King’s engagement ring to have. 

All in all, the Prince looked just the same as any young nobleman he had ever seen, including those pretending to have more money than they did for the sake of their simpering wives and spoiled offspring. 

His brown eyes were kind, however, kinder than any he’d seen in one with such youth and power – for to have the devotion of the Iron King was to be powerful indeed. 

Steve was no fool: he had been and survived as a slave too long to be such, and was surprised when he realised: he did not feel threatened by this boy or his attendants, he had not memorised the weak points of their bodies (not that he would attack one who was essentially a child or women: he was no animal) or the exits in the room (three now, he could see, although the window may prove difficult to break with no weapon)…he even felt – God’s help him - relaxed in his company. 

A first indeed. 

He purposely avoided thinking of deep blue eyes framed with dark lashes, and the glint of silver in place where a left arm should be…

There was no use for such fancies. 

“You are as young as they say.” He finally spoke – wondering how far he could push his new host before he would decide Steve was too much trouble and either punish him or send him away in a tantrum. 

That, at least, would be familiar. 

The Prince’s mouth quirked up in a smile, and to his surprise, amusement shone through his eyes. “Indeed: that surprises you?”

His shock that such a question was not immediately met with annoyance or anger prompted him to continue as he had begun; honestly. 

“It does and it does not.” He shifted in his seat. “I had heard that the Iron King’s mate was decades his junior, but I did not expect you to…have a hand in ruling?” 

The Prince’s expression sobered a little at that. “I insisted: there are many people watching me, all day and every day. They judge me and my Alpha, have done so since I was but a toddler, and they will continue to do so until long after we mate. Whatever their grievances or suspicions, I am determined to prove them wrong.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully: he knew what that was like. “Is it true the King found you as an infant?” 

He chanced a look at Peter, who had softened at the mention of the King. “He did: I have never been without him since – I am very lucky.” He smiled apologetically as May hmm-phed, but ultimately said nothing. 

Steve wanted to ask more; but decided to hold his questions for another time.

If there was another time. 

“Forgive me, my Prince,” he began, trying to remember the courtesy, “but what is going to happen to me now?”

The Prince raised one shoulder in a shrug, his eyes kind and considering. “It is up to you: you can travel wherever you want. The King will give you money as compensation for your suffering should you choose such a path.”

He paused to smile sheepishly as May brought him another stack of papers with a pointed look but continued as he pulled them closer. “Or you can stay here: we have many positions you could fill within the castle or court, depending on your preferences. Once you decide, we can arrange a position for you?” He finished expectantly, and Steve felt uncertainty rise up within him: when he had been kicked awake this morning, the possibility of his having freedom, of choices…it was not even a dream. 

Peter was frowning at him in concern now, and May looked as though she would intervene. Before she could, however, Peter had already started speaking. “Of course, like I said, you don’t have to decide now! Friday will prepare a guest chamber for you so you can sleep on it, and Dr. Banner will be coming to see us soon: he usually comes to sit with me in the afternoons for a time if his duties permit it. For now, though…”

He picked up his quill and turned back to the previously abandoned book. He looked up at Steve with shining eyes and an almost child-like innocence. “What do you know about the history of Americana? There are some things every royal must know, apparently.” His tone spoke volumes of exactly what he thought about such a rule. 

And Steve, feeling a surge of protectiveness so fierce for this boy who would soon help rule a nation, and with the lingering memory of deep blue eyes and silver in his mind, merely answered: “…Depends, which period are you learning about?”

His decision had already been made, even if no one knew it yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :-)  
> As of now this is a stand-alone piece, I really just started writing it one day after getting the idea and this is how it turned out! I'm quite proud of it actually! If you have an idea for this universe please feel free to leave it in the comments: As much as I wish otherwise I make no promises to actually write it as life is not allowing me much time to write at the moment, but if I get inspired then I will certainly try: just might take a long while!  
> As always, constructive critisism is welcome!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, if anyone is able to explain how to post a work with italics in layman's terms, I'd be very greatful! AO3's help docs are amazing but there is so much!


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